The Meddler of Time
by xoglowergrinox123
Summary: After the Final Battle, Harry Potter falls apart consumed with grief and regret. Ancient magic decides to intervene and Harry notices that many things have changed... Timetravel, alternate ending from DH. Rating on the line.
1. Departure

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter.

**Author's Note**

**Alright fans, you're all probably wondering where the hell all the chapters went. K-A-L-M down. (That's right. I spelled it with a K.) You're computers are not broken, I've just decided to improve on them. You see, I've been in college since September and I really had no chance whatsoever to write a decent chapter. When I finally felt up to writing again, I realized I had COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN WHAT I WROTE. So the only cure was to reread my story. After reading only the first chapter I realized something…it **_**sucked**_**. Seriously, I have no idea how I even let that online. It was atrocious. **

**So I basically took the past two weeks rewriting the whole story. Well, not the **_**whole**_** story – not yet anyways. I'm only on chapter five, but I am working on it! Please, oh please forgive me! As a few of you have probably seen, I titled this story differently so my previous writers would be able to review even though I know a lot of it will probably be hate mail. This story is just an improved version of ****Changing History****, so get freaked out by the name. **

**So here's the new and improved story. I've put up the first two chapters so you all won't be terribly angry at me. Honestly you guys, I am completely and utterly sorry for the inconvenience, but hopefully you guys will forget your anger when you see how much better the story is. **

**Either way, enjoy :)**

**xoglowergrinox123 **

**Chapter 1- Departure**

_1999_

A man stood in the center of a battlefield – a battlefield that had once been the grounds to the enchanted school of Hogwarts. Instead of a school, only revealed to the eyes of wizards, it now took on the resemblance of the ruined castle that the muggles perceived it to be.

The man turned haunted green eyes towards the wreckage. Those ruins had formed a place he had once called home. A wave of grief swept over him as he took in the sight of his former school. No more would it have laughing students bounding through the halls. No more teachers deducting house points, no school rivalry, no more Quidditch… The Gryffindor tower looked as if it had never been and where the northern end had stood now lay a large pile of rubble. A vision of those strong walls crashing to the ground made him look away, wincing at the memory. Unfortunately, his attention was brought back to the bodies that were scattered at his feet and finally the painful reality began to set in.

There had been a war and not just any war…_the_ war. The Final Battle between the light and dark had taken place here and there were so _many_. There was nowhere for his eyes to fall without meeting a vacant face.

_Avada Kedarva_. His expression remained indifferent as the familiar green light brushed his mind. _That was the least painful way to go,_ he thought as his eyes quickly glanced at a young man lying near a fallen tree. His chest had been ripped open; either a spell had done the damage or one of the merciless creatures within the Dark Lord's ranks. Traces of horror were still apparent on his face.

With a slight flinch, young Harry Potter looked away, turning his attention back to the battlefield. Not too long ago the very ground he was standing on was a war zone. Spells were being cast from every direction. Magical creatures, both light and dark, fought against each other, all hoping to give their side one more moment of triumph before falling to their deaths.

This war, which he fought so long to win, was futile. He had failed. He was supposed to be the wizarding world's savior, the Chosen One, The Boy-Who-Lived, but looking at the wreckage around him it was hard to believe he had saved anything at all.

The dark haired man limped through the maze of corpses. A few men staggered across the field just like he, looking for any hint of survivors. Many house elves cried over their lifeless masters, hysterical sobs echoed across the countryside. He didn't have the energy to nod as he passed the half dozen centaurs lined up at the lake's edge, their arrows flaming as they shot them across the sky and into the murky water – a salute to those who lost their lives. Harry could have sworn he heard Fawks singing his hauntingly beautiful song in the distance as the sky brightened in red – its color matching the grass below.

Staring at the sky, he looked at his watch which somehow was the only thing to have lasted all these years and was shocked to see the battle had lasted a little over twelve hours. _How could there be so much death in so little time?_ He thought and wondered how he had managed to last this long without collapsing.

With every step a wave of pain rushed up his spine. If he had paused to examine his injuries he would have noticed that his broken hip was protruding from his skin and that most of the blood on his robes was indeed his. Without immediate medical help he would surely die of blood loss. Each breath he took was a battle all its own. His mouth was dry and pasty, as if he hadn't drank for days. Sweat stung at his eyes and open wounds, but he didn't care. As soon as it happened he _knew_. There was horrible and desperate pain clawing in his chest. The book had said he would undergo terrible pain, and it wasn't joking. He would have screamed if his throat weren't burnt so.

Most of Voldemort's ranks deserted the war zone once their leader had perished, however a few had stayed, consumed with rage. Bellatrix Lestrange was one of those few. She had been set on taking revenge for the loss of her beloved master. The loyal Death Eater was vicious and unmerciful; her laugh followed every curse that met its target. Harry had dodged and shielded as fast as his body was able. It was difficult to throw a curse in between his defenses, especially after he was hit with a spell that burned his throat and tongue, making it impossible for him to pronounce any verbal incantations. Eventually he saw an opening in her defenses and returned a nonverbal slicing spell that silenced the mad woman mid-laugh.

He kept walking, his legs working of their own accord. The adrenaline he felt whilst fighting was beginning to wear off, his vision blurring. Darkness threatened to claim his world of red and black. Harry didn't know for how long he searched; his eyes looking for that long red hair in the sea of bodies.

When he found her his feet finally brought him to a halt. His already weak knees gave out as a hoarse cry emitted from his throat. New tears sprung to his eyes when he gazed at her. He had to fight to keep from blacking out, so without much effort Harry just knelt there holding her close. She smelled of death. He stared into those beautiful, dark brown eyes that always held a certain fire, even in death.

His throat burned, but he ignored the pain as a choked sob escaped his lips. "Ginny…no…please, no."

He grabbed hold of her rigid hand – a gold band lay upon her third finger.

_Satin ribbons wrapped around every tree, white flowers hanging from their branches. An enchantment was placed upon the area – a gentle snow fall, disappearing before it touched any of the guests. It was the beginning of spring and a soft light from the afternoon sun made it through the trees. _

_They were in their own bubble of sanctuary within a world of hate. No war. No conflicts. There was only happiness and love within their small clearing._

_Harry, who was shifting back and forth on his feet, began to sweat with nervousness. He ran a hand through his hair for the umpteenth time within five minutes. He couldn't believe he was actually doing this._

_A hand clapped him on the shoulder. "Mate, you look sick. I don't think Gin would be too fond of her groom letting up his breakfast all over her dress," Ron, his best man whispered from behind._

"_I'm just nervous," he replied as his hand tried desperately to flatten his untamed locks. _

"_Well, you better suck it up because here she comes."_

_He turned his head towards the aisle and his world stopped. There were no words that could express what he felt besides happy – insanely and stupidly happy. He wouldn't be surprised if his feet left the ground like that old muggle movie. What was it called? Something about a pan…His mind was unable to keep the train of thought as his bride ascended down the aisle. _

_There was only one word that described her – beautiful. Interlaced with white flowers, her flaming hair cascaded down her back in ringlets. A silken white gown flattered her perfect figure. She walked with such grace that Harry believed couldn't possibly be human. Her face had broken into a blinding smile as she came into view, her eyes never leaving his. _

_For Harry, most of the ceremony was a blur as he watched her with a grin. Professor Dumbledore's words had blended together as he stared at his wife-to-be. _

"_I, Ginerva Molly Weasley, take you, Harry James Potter, to be my husband, my partner in life and my one true love. I will cherish our union and love you more each day than I did the day before. I will trust you and respect you, laugh with you and cry with you, loving you faithfully through good times and bad, regardless of the obstacles we may face together. I give you my hand, my heart, and my love, from this day forward in this life and in the next."_

_Although he wasn't fully paying attention, his eyes trailed from her brown eyes to the freckle on her upper lip and thinking just how perfectly her lips formed an 'o' as she spoke. He was so entranced that he completely forgot…what was it exactly was he supposed to be doing? He was supposed to do…something. What was it?_

_Dumbledore cleared his throat, turning to dark haired man expectantly. Eyebrows knitted in a furrow Harry looked at his previous professor, mind completely blank. _

"_Err…"_

_He heard a few chuckles from their audience and a snippet of a conversation._

"_You think it's genetic?" _

"_What?"_

"_The inability of functioning at your own wedding."_

"_Why would you say that?"_

"_Because James did the same bloody thing!" Someone whispered fiercely._

_Ginny smiled lovingly at him and whispered in a mocking tone, "I, Harry James Potter…"_

_Harry could not help the goofy grin on his face nor the flush that crept across his face in embarrassment as he recited his vows in return._

"_I, Harry James Potter, take you, Ginerva Molly Weasley, to be my friend, my lover, the mother of my children and my wife. I will be yours in times of plenty and in times of want, in times of sickness and in times of health, in times of joy and in times of sorrow, in times of failure and in times of triumph. I promise to cherish and respect you, to care and protect you, to comfort and encourage you, and stay with you, for all eternity."_

"_By the powers vested in me…I now pronounce Mr. and Mrs. Harry James Potter," Dumbledore said with a joyful smile. He turned to Harry. "You may now kiss your bride."_

_They didn't need to be told twice as Harry pulled his wife into his arms and gave her the gentlest of kisses. All he knew was that he was never going to let her go as long as he had anything to do with it. _

"Ginny…please…you can't leave me…" he trembled. Fear was evident in his voice. How could he fail her like this? How would he ever smile again without the sound of her voice? Without her touch? Without her laugh?

In time, he slowly began to realize she wasn't going to answer him. She would never hear his pleas nor see his tears. As this realization dawned on him, a numbness swept through him before a wave of anger engulfed him.

He felt his magic building up, a white fire burning through his veins. A part of him knew he had to control it to prevent hurting himself.

_What do I have to lose?_ He thought. His soul had died with Ginny. The sooner he could see her, the sooner the pain would recede. No one deserved this. If only he could fix it…if only he could start over.

The light surrounding him had built up to the point of suffocating. He unleashed his magic with a cry of pain. There was a burst of blinding white light and then…he was gone.

**Well, there you go. Good, bad? Was it worse than the original? Better? Be honest. Don't spare any feelings! Just review!**


	2. An Unexpected Arrival

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter.

**Author's Note**

**And here is the second chapter. Like I said in the Author's Note in the original piece, those of you who've returned might remember a few scenes in here, but don't skip anything! I beg of you! I stopped trying to rush the plot line and actually took the time and let things flow. So please, oh please don't miss out on the improvements. :)**

**xoglowergrinox123**

**Chapter 2- An Unexpected Arrival**

_1975_

It was the first day back and all the students of Hogwarts rushed into the Great Hall claiming their seats, all eager to get the sorting over with. The train ride over provided a few refreshments, but after six hours on a train many of them were completely famished. At first only a few students wandered in before the majority of the student body joined them. The hall was full of bustling and laughter with students greeting each other for the first time after the summer holidays.

The peaceful activity was cut off, however, when a young man shouted from the entrance, "You will never win, Lord of the Skies!"

Everyone's attention was directed at two young men bounding into the hall. A few groans could be heard for the crowd.

"Oh, I disagree, Black Knight. 'Tis _you_ who will fall!" said the other with preferably messy, black hair.

The two seventh year Gryffindors waved their wands about in a fierce duel. As all of the students knew, dueling in the halls was strictly forbidden, however the sight amused the occupants of the hall, and the teachers were completely baffled as of what to do. Rather than magic like normal students, they fought with their wands as if they were swords.

"Lord of the Skies, you will die at my feet before I see you win the fair maiden's heart!" It didn't take long for everyone to realize the two duelers were indeed young Sirius Black and James Potter, both unable to control the grins on their faces as they performed.

James parried and said, "No! For I will die before I see my lady within another's arms!" He then thrust his wand between the torso and arm of the Black Night.

The Black Knight stumbled and fell to his knees. With a dramatic pause he uttered, while holding the wand protruding from his arm, "Thus, I have lost and never again shall I see those sparkling amber eyes…" Sir Black Knight sputtered and coughed, falling to the ground and finally laying still. His breathing was the only betrayal of his performance.

A more than half annoyed Remus Lupin marched into the hall before James Potter ran over to the so-called 'fair maiden' and knelt before him.

"Fair maiden, would you accept my pure heart and call it yours?" 'Lord of the Skies' asked, grabbing hold of his friend's hand and clutching it to his chest.

Startled at his friend's actions, Remus' face turned into a sneer as he regained his composure, "No! And give it a break will you? I'm no bloody _maiden_!"

"Fair maiden! You wound thy heart!" James Potter exclaimed clutching his chest. He stumbled back and retrieved his wand from Sirius on the ground. "And so, with this horrendous shame, let me…die!" He took his wand and thrust it between his own chest and arm, just like he had done with Sirius. And so The Lord of the Skies fell back and joined his mortal enemy, The Black Knight, in death.

In response, most in the Great Hall emitted sounds of impatience for the Marauders had been annoying the occupants of the train with their routine for the past hour. Almost everyone in the hall, with the exception of Peter Pettigrew who was clutching his sides with laughter, was becoming quite annoyed with the dramatic duo, including Remus.

Both James and Sirius sprung back on their feet and gave gracious bows, basking in the attention of their small friend. "Thank you! – You are too kind! – You shouldn't have! – You're a wonderful audience!"

At this point in time, the Headmaster stood up from his place at the teacher's table. "Thank you, Mr. Potter and Mr. Black for that engaging performance. But nevertheless, could everyone kindly find their seats so the sorting may begin?"

Riled up, Remus made his way over to the Gryffindor table, a far ways down trying to escape his brain damaged friends all the while muttering obscenities under his breath; however the three easily sauntered their way over to the angry werewolf and took their respectable places at the table.

It took a moment for everyone to quiet down, but once they all finally took their seats, Professor Dumbledore declared with a smile, "Now, let the sorting begin!"

The great oak doors opened to allow Professor McGonagall and a line of amazed first years into the Hall.

There was groan heard at the Gryffindor table. This gained a few sniggers from those nearby but most just plainly ignored Sirius Black as he slammed his head on the table. It was no secret that the infamous Black could last long without food.

"It's the same thing every year. Don't they know we would be a lot happier if they fed us before the sorting? It's my dinner time!" Sirius complained rather loudly. Many students and teachers gave him disapproving looks.

"Of course, how could I forget? We all must bow graciously to Sirius' growling stomach, otherwise he might bite us," Remus snapped.

Sirius snapped at his friend, in response to his 'dog joke' and not to mention his short temper. "What is with you today? No need to be so moody, Moony. Is it that time of month already?"

Remus was always a little sensitive for the last few days before a full moon, Sirius was well aware of this fact yet he proceeded to taunt him about it. "Well I'm sorry if not everyone loves the boy who talks to his hair every morning!"

"Quiet down about that, will you?" Sirius whispered, glancing around hoping no one heard Remus' comment. Unfortunately, a few close by were trying to control their laughter, mostly because no one wanted to be the target of Sirius' wrath. Sirius took great pride in his appearance and it just would not do to have his fellow classmates mocking him for his vanity. "Besides, I _told_ you…it needs to be brought up in a positive environment otherwise it'll go flat. And due to all this negative energy you're emitting today, _I'll never forgive you if it does_."

"Oi! Will you two quiet down? McGonagall's giving us the eye and it hasn't even been past the sorting yet," James hissed.

"I can't help that I get angry when my stomach is deprived of this magical thing called food, James. Have you heard of it...no? Well I happen to be very fond of it, as I have a small metabolism and need to ingest constantly," Sirius defended.

James looked as if Sirius had grown three heads. "Deprived? _Metabolism_? Those are pretty big words for you, Sirius."

"Has Sirius Black actually read something besides Playboy?" Remus asked, smirking.

Sirius face turned into one of offense. "Who reads Playboy? I don't know about you, but I look at the _pictures_."

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me."

"For your information, Mr. Smarty Pants, I can read, you know. Like just this summer I read an article in Mrs. P's magazine, How to Cook for Deprived Children with Small Metabolisms."

Remus raised a brow at the long title.

"Give me a break. It was the only thing in the loo at the time."

Remus' expression went from amused to thoughtful. "What was Mrs. Potter's magazine doing in the bathroom anyways?"

Sirius shrugged. Peter watched the conversation unfold in front of him and not for the first time thought just how more amusing the conversations between Remus and Sirius were than muggle television.

Seeing his friend's looks, James ran his hand through his hair in embarrassment staying silent.

They looked at him with expectant faces. "Well?"

"Yeah, James. Why _does_ your mum have a women's magazine in the bathroom?" Remus asked leaning forward, a bit too eagerly.

He looked in between his three friends, amused that they thought it was strange his mum put feminine magazines in the bathroom, but not that Sirius actually read them. Then again, Sirius never kept his nose out of other people's business, so he shouldn't have been surprised.

"Err…well –you guys know how strong-minded Mum is. One day Dad caught her going to the bathroom with a book and asked her what the bloody hell she was doing. She started yelling at him that men weren't the only ones who got to amuse themselves while on the toilet. She slammed the door and Dad just walked off muttering how mental the woman was. From then on she makes this big show of putting women's magazines and a bookshelf in the loo," he said a bit hesitantly.

The other three Marauders exchanged a serious glance before falling into fits of laughter.

"Hey, that's my mother you all are laughing at!" James exclaimed quietly. He sent an apologetic look at the teacher's table, hoping they wouldn't start yelling at them on the spot.

Remus was laughed harder when Peter fell over backwards onto the floor that tears poured from his eyes. "Sorry, mate, but I always wondered about the bookshelf full of soppy romance novels!" Sirius barked out.

Someone cleared their throat loudly from the head table, which forced them to quiet down to hysterical giggling.

James rubbed his forehead in exasperation. "Bloody hell. You need guys to shut up _now_," he said with an anxious glance towards the teachers' table.

Seeing his friend's apprehensive looks, Sirius sobered up. "What's with you, mate? You look like a pygmy puff realizes it's gonna be used as a bludger."

"It's nothing," James replied a bit too quickly, running a hand through his hair again.

Sirius snorted. "You know, you my dear friend, I can always tell when you're lying. Now spill," his voice ordered.

James gave a sigh of defeat and lowered his voice to a soft whisper, "I'm trying to turn over a new leaf. This is my last chance to impress Lily and if that means I have to buckle down a bit, I will. So no funny business this year, and that includes getting in trouble with the teachers."

Sirius' expression changed from bewilderment to understanding to complete disbelief. "Oh come on, mate. You really think that just because you change your act this one year that she's going to run into your arms?"

"You lot didn't see her face when I showed up in the Head's Cabin. We actually had a _conversation._ She didn't raise her voice once!"

"I don't know, James…Evans is pretty intent on hating your guts," Peter said wearily.

Unlike the others, Remus took pity on his friend. James had been pinning after Lily Evans since first year. Even though Sirius and Peter hadn't the slightest idea why James would want to go after her in the first place, it only made sense to him that James would go for the girl who challenged everything the Marauders stood for. "Good for you, mate," was all he said, patting him on the back.

Those four words brought the grin back to James' face. "Thanks."

However Peter and Sirius didn't take the hint and continued to barrage James' decision.

"You could seriously have any girl in the school, Prongs. Why go after her?"

"All she does is nag. _All_ _the time_!"

"She has no manners. We can never have one conversation without her butting in every five minutes to tell us how immature we are. She acts like I don't know how immature I am. I'm happy being immature!"

Unfortunately, none of the Marauders saw the short tempered redhead a few seats down the table, who had heard Sirius and Peter's allegations. Just as she was about to defend herself and give them a piece of her mind when James' voice .

"Listen, I know you guys don't like her, but give her a break will you? Can you blame her after all the stuff we pulled?"

"James, we're the Marauders and she's…_Head Girl_."

"And I'm Head Boy! Believe it or not, things are going to change this year whether Lily's involved or not and it's _because_ I'm Head Boy. I've got responsibilities, Padfoot, Wormtail, and you're going to have to accept that I won't be involved in as many ploys!" James snapped.

"Thank you for that speech, Mr. Potter. However as glad as I am to hear how serious you are about your new position, we are in the middle of sorting our new First Years. Would you kindly glue your behind to your seat?" McGonagall's stern voice ordered.

Not realizing just how loud he'd gotten, nor that he had somehow came to a standing position, James sat down, a flush still evident on his face. After hearing James' outburst, Lily's cheeks turned a light pink as well.

The Marauders continued their conversation in hushed tones, once everyone turned their attention back to the Sorting Ceremony.

"Listen, mate. If you want to chase the girl of your dreams, go ahead. I suppose you don't have to join us in _everything_, but we're still going to cause trouble, whether you like it or not," Sirius said…well, seriously.

James smiled at that. He figured that would be the best compromise he would get from him. Figuratively speaking, telling Sirius that he wasn't going to prank with them anymore was like putting a wild dog on a leash – in other words, there was no chance in hell that was going to happen. "Thanks, guys."

However the touching moment was disrupted by a rather unmanly sound made by Sirius. "Holy Hell! How on earth did half of our forces become the very thing we're fighting against?"

Giving him a fearful look, James scooted an inch or two away from the squealing boy. "Okay, what's wrong with you now? Are you going in that panic mode again? Quick, Remus! Conjure a rubber band!"

Sirius grabbed James across the table like a desperate man dying of thirst. "No…well, not yet anyways. I _mean_ how did two of _The Marauders_ end up in positions of authority?"

Remus barked out a laugh, before covering it up with his robes, checking to see if they gained any attention from the teachers. They were probably ignoring them by this point.

Sirius looked utterly confused. "Honestly! Did Hell freeze over?"

"Nah," Peter said, waving a hand. "If Hell froze over, Lily would've said 'yes'." This received a warning glare from James, to which Peter put up his hands in a 'I-just-couldn't-help-myself' manner.

"Messrs Potter, Lupin, Black, and Pettigrew, I know you are an impatient lot, but we will ask you again. Can you please hold off on your conversation for a few more minutes as the sorting comes to a close?" the Headmaster's voice resonated throughout the hall, causing the four boys' mouths to shut. They all nodded in response.

"Very well. Minerva, you may continue," Dumbledore said as he got comfortable in his seat once more.

She gave a curt nod in thanks and cleared her throat, "Percival, Jonathan!"

The sorting was a long one. Almost twenty new students were being welcomed into their respective houses as Sirius began whining about his stomach once again, which turned into a groan as the Headmaster took his place at the podium.

"I promise to keep this short and to the point," he started, a twinkle in his eye. "There are a few start-of-term notices I wish to announce. First years should note that—"

However that was far as he reached before a blinding white light flashed through the hall.

There was a round of shrieks, followed by another when the light finally receded. For in the center of the hall between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables was a clearly injured man kneeling in what looked to be battle robes. And was that _blood?_

Where his robes were torn, deep cuts were clearly visible. His head was covered in a mop of grimy dark hair covering a nasty gash on his forehead, still profusely bleeding along with various scratches and burn marks across his face and arms. A pair of broken glasses rested askew on the bridge of his nose.

The teachers and Professor Dumbledore took a stand, holding their wands in defense from the mysterious stranger. How had he gotten through the wards?

The man looked around confused as he took in the students and teachers around him. He stood up, stumbling slightly. "W – What –"

However the effort seemed to be too much for him to handle. His eyes rolled in the back of his head before he collapsed to the floor in a heap.

Students gasped and screamed from all the tables as they watched him fall.

Without a second thought or word, Madam Pomfrey hurried over to him and casting a levitating charm, rushed out of the Hall with the beaten man in tow.

With a quick '_Sonorous_' the headmaster gained everyone's attention within a matter of moments. Silence reigned over the students like a blanket.

"Everyone is to remain clam. This event certainly was a bump for this evening's festivities; however everything will go on as planned." With a clap, food appeared on all four tables before he continued, "Dinner is served. Professor Morgan will watch over you while Professor McGonagall and myself meet our newest guest. Professor McGonagall, please follow me." With that, Professor Dumbledore and the deputy headmistress quickly followed the medi-witch out the door.

As soon as they left, the Great Hall burst with noise. Everyone was talking about the mysterious man appearing in the middle of Hogwarts. After all, it wasn't everyday that a person was capable of apparating on Hogwarts grounds.

For once, the Marauders were silent.

"He looked like – like…" Sirius trailed off.

The Marauders looked directly at James, who looked as if he'd seen a ghost. The Head Boy glanced at the door, scratching his head uncertainly. "Me?" he practically squeaked. He coughed, clearing his throat and pulled himself together. He gave a forced laugh. "Okay, I admit we have the same glasses, but I look a whole lot prettier, don't you think?" he asked, putting on a charming smile for effect.

Remus had to roll his eyes at his friend's uncanny ability to make a serious situation into a self-absorbed comment.

Peter let out a nervous chuckle. "You sure you don't have long lost twin, Prongs?"

"Beats me," James shrugged. "What do you think, Padfoot? He doesn't look too much like me, does he?"

Sirius would have found it fascinating if there wasn't a plate of food in front of him. He honestly couldn't take the hunger anymore, so he paused for only a moment to offer a careless shrug before taking another large bite of chicken.


	3. Professor Turner

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter.

**Chapter 3- Professor Turner**

"How is the man faring, Poppy?" Albus asked once he and McGonagall entered the Hospital Wing.

"I feel it would be better if we sent him to St. Mungo's. I've never seen anything like it, Albus. Some of these spells are quite dark and I don't want to tamper with them," the medi-witch said, performing a series of diagnostic charms over the beaten man.

"I don't want to do that unless we have no other choice. This man materialized in the middle of the Great Hall looking as if he had come from the battle of the century. If we send him to St. Mungo's the Ministry would be on him in a heartbeat. I want questions answered before they are notified," Albus said, watching the boy intently.

To a normal bystander it looked as if he were concentrating on something, but Poppy new better. "Albus! Don't even think about it. I won't have you digging around my patient's mind while he's unconscious. If you want questions answered, you'll have to come back later when he awakens. For his benefit, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave," she ordered.

For a moment, she believed he was actually going to argue. However, he must of thought better of it and left with a quick pace. That man hired her for her not only for her skills, but for authority she held over her Wing. If he so much as toed that line, he would be in a world of curses and high shrieks from the stern medi-witch. Turning back to the man she flicked her wand to remove his shirt and trousers to get a better look at his wounds.

Minerva stepped forward. "Is there anything I can do, Poppy?"

Poppy jumped out of her skin when she heard the deputy headmistress. She had thought she left after the headmaster. "Yes, grab some Painless Potion along with some Disinfectant Brew. Oh, and while you're at it get a hold of some Muscle Re-growth tonic. It should be somewhere on my desk."

The Transfiguration teacher nodded as she rushed into her coworker's office for the supplies.

"Well, I've done all I'm capable of, Headmaster. There's nothing more I can do," Poppy said a bit wearily. The extent of the man's injuries was much more severe than she originally thought. There was a scorching jinx that had somehow made it down his throat. If he lasted much longer without medical care, he would have been lucky to talk again, and not the mention the amount of blood loss."

"Are there any lasting injuries?"

"Most of them were easy enough to fix. However if he lasted longer without help his injuries surely would have killed him. Most of them were received within the past six to twelve hours. It's amazing he was able to stand at all when he arrived. He had numerous scratches and broken ribs as well as a severely broken hip." She pursed her lips before continuing, "There are a few things I wanted to point out." She walked over to the man's bedside. Pushing the hair from the man's forehead with her wand, Albus could see a deep scar in the shape of a lightening bolt just below his hairline.

"What is this?" he asked.

The medi-witch sighed. "I'm not sure, but it refuses to close along with the animalistic scratches along his neck and torso. There's ancient magic embedded in it. I tried to remove it, but the curse seems to have manifested itself throughout his entire being. I cannot eliminate it without serious physical and mental repercussions. It seems as if he's lived with it his whole life…" she explained sadly.

The Headmaster walked up close to study the scar. "It looks like it has reopened recently," he observed.

"Unfortunately, I cannot explain that, sir," she replied with a hint of annoyance. She hated not being able to cure one of her patients, whether she was qualified to handle the seriousness of the injuries or not.

Albus hummed as he noted the injury for later. "Were there any others?"

She hesitated before speaking. "I – I'm not sure, sir. It is the darkest form of magic I've ever seen," she said before folding the blankets back further so he could see the man's chest.

His eyes widened as he took in what his eyes were seeing. A gasp escaped his lips.

"What is it, Albus?" Once again, the sound of Minerva's voice made Poppy jump in surprise. The woman had unearthly abilities to materialize out of thin air.

"Never in my life have I even _heard_ of such a spell being cast…" The old man whispered, staring at the tattoo on the man's heart.

"Albus?" Minerva asked worriedly toward the unmoving man.

"_Adligare Amatoria,_" was all he said before the man before them let out a long groan.

* * *

><p>Soft voices. Although he couldn't hear what was being said, they sounded urgent.<p>

_Sweet Merlin!_ It felt as if he had been hit by the Knight Bus. His whole body ached, every bone throbbed in discomfort. Thinking it must have been his sleeping position, Harry shifted on the bed.

_A bed? _When Harry was finally able to open his eyes, he found a familiar sight above him. He knew those white stones anywhere for having spent most of his school years in this very bed, staring at that very ceiling for days on end, having a variety of foul tasting potions shoved down his throat. _The Hospital Wing? That's impossible…_

Before he was capable of further thought a sharp pain shot through every muscle and bone in his body. Biting his tongue to keep from crying out, Harry looked down to examine his wounds but to his surprise, there were none. Well, besides the fact that he was shirtless…_and pantsless_, he mentally added, it was completely healed. _What the hell?_ He thought before another wave of pain enveloped him.

It was as if something was squeezing him from the inside, like he was being sucked into a vacuum. With every breath, the aching became more and more consistent – a lonely feeling that kept growing, tearing him apart from the inside.

_Ginny…_ The feeling became worse as he thought of her, like he was traveling at light speed. He took a deep breath when stars began swarming his vision. He closed his eyes, willing the pain to recede yet he knew it was impossible. He would always feel like this, until the moment he died…

His train of thought was broken by the sound of a soft cough. Harry snapped his eyes back open, bolting upright in the bed once again. However this time he wasn't surprised when another wave of pain shot through his chest. He swallowed a shout, but he couldn't help the grimace that appeared on his face. He could control his pain, if only barely.

He glanced about the room and noticed his glasses had gone. He shifted over to the side of the bed when a woman to his right tutted. He froze.

"I wouldn't make one more move if I were you, sir. The bed's been charmed to place an immediate stunning spell on you if so much as lift one finger away from the bed's boundaries," the voice said.

He felt something soft land on his mattress. Grabbing for them desperately, he let out a breath of relief when he found his glasses. On putting them on, he almost wished he hadn't. He stared in shock as she stepped towards him, holding a bottle of murky blue liquid. It couldn't be, in fact it was impossible – no one could be brought back from the dead, yet Madam Pomfrey stood at his side pouring the unknown potion into a small cup as if she'd been doing it forever.

"Still hurting I see. Here, drink this. It should help with the stiffness," she said, handing him the cup.

Subconsciously, he took the offered cup his eyes wide with shock. It was real. He turned his gaze back to hers, not believing the proof that was right in front of him.

"How…?" he trailed off, not knowing what question to ask. What was he supposed to say?

"No talking, just drink. The headmaster is waiting outside. I refuse to let him come back in and badger you with questions before you are strong enough to sit up. However I can only hold him off for so long."

Questioning? Now Harry was utterly confused. Why was he being threatened to stay put? And why was Madam Pomfrey speaking to him like a stranger?

"Madam Pomfrey, I don't understand."

Her eyes narrowed. "I know perfectly well that I did not announce my title. How do you know my name?"

That shut him up. _Well, that answers that question_, he thought bluntly.

"Now, Poppy. I thought we agreed that I would be the one doing the questioning," an eerily familiar voice said from the doorway.

Harry almost had whiplash from the speed he turned his head. It couldn't have been. He saw the old man die in front of his very eyes. There was absolutely no way a person could come back from the dead.

If it were possible, Harry's eyes widened even more so. "_Dumbledore…?"_

"You know my name, yet we do not know yours," said the old man, puzzled. Usually, he could take a quick look through someone's thoughts without being detected, but this young man in front of him had strong occulmency shields around his mind, even when he was in a state of unconsciousness. _Puzzling indeed…._

"How – I don't…you can't be –" Harry's mind was thrown into a whirlwind of confusion. Before now, he thought that Madam Pomfrey had somehow escaped from the battle unscathed, but now…He had seen Dumbledore die, hadn't he? Of course he had, there was no denying that. He'd seen his Headmaster fall from the Astronomy Tower a little less than three years ago. Now the same man was walking through the hospital wing as if he'd been alive and kicking the whole time.

At this point, Dumbledore was as amused as he was puzzled. The man lying in front of him, who bared a striking resemblance to their very own James Potter, seemed to be just as confused as he was. "I must ask, sir. Are you related to a James Potter? We can't deny the resemblance is uncanny…"

Harry stiffened. James _Potter?_ Why was Dumbledore asking who he was? And why was he bringing his father into this? His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What are you getting at?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"You know just as well as I do that James Potter died nineteen years ago, and not to mention yourself and Pomfrey. So tell me again, just what do you think you're getting at, _Dumbledore_?" he spat the name out sarcastically.

They were supposed to be dead? That didn't make any sense in the headmaster's head. However, a nearly impossible thought threaded into his mind. "This might be the most absurd question…What is the date today, young man?"

Harry swallowed. He subconsciously realized the burning sensation in his throat was gone, but was replaced by a rather uncomfortable and painful feeling as if he had swallowed a mouthful of needles. He tried swallowing again to get rid of it, but unfortunately the pain was rather persistent. Unease settled in his stomach and began creeping up his throat. Adding that to the physical pain was making his head spin.

_Date? Hell, I don't know. I stopped keeping track of time months ago…_ He looked out the nearest window and judging by the fading green of the trees, he'd say sometime in the late summer. "Uhh, August or September I'm guessing," he replied with a shrug, a sharp pain hit his lower back, almost causing him to pass out.

"And the year?"

His head snapped up and studied the supposed 'Dumbledore's' expression and what he saw made his very blood freeze. He finally began to notice what was in front of his face.

The man in front of him _was_ Dumbledore, but at the same time it wasn't. The man standing by his bedside wasn't the man that Harry knew. In fact, this man seemed younger, more confident and somehow stronger, than the white haired wizard he familiarized himself with for ten years.

Then it hit him like he had _accio_ed a ton of bricks. He remembered being engulfed by a hot light and suddenly appearing in the Great Hall. He remembered the students. The teachers. Madam Pomfrey. A younger Dumbledore. It all made perfect sense and it _terrified_ him.

As realization dawned on his face, Dumbledore was almost sure of his suspicions. He just needed to hear one thing. "The year, my good man. What is the year?"

Harry swallowed hard. "Nine – Nineteen ninety-nine?" he said, however he phrased it more as a question.

His response earned a few gasps around the room. He swiveled his head and saw Pomfrey had not yet left and McGonagall was with them as well. Even though recent events still plagued his mind, he let his heart beat with a small thread of hope and joy as his eyes met his former Transfiguration teacher. The last time he had seen her alive was…when she sacrificed her life for Teddy's. _Teddy…_

The younger Dumbledore shook his head as if he suspected as much. "Sir, I'm afraid to tell you, you're incorrect. It is in fact, 1975."

Harry's eyes widened. That would mean…_Don't pass out, Harry…don't pass out…_

"Sir, I can only imagine how much of a shock this could be for you, but believe me I'm quite surprised myself. I may be old, but never have I met a time traveler before," the headmaster said with a smile, which faltered a bit as his eyes cast a quick glance at his chest.

The dark haired man would have caught the small slip-up if he wasn't in utter shock. _I'm a time traveler…I traveled through time, and with my own magic! Oh sweet Merlin, you can't just let me be can you? I have one minute to deal with my grief and the next I'm traveling through time and space. My life could not be more complicated…_Harry thought to himself. If he wasn't sure of the amount of pain he was in before, he sure was now. The air didn't seem to want to re-enter his lungs, increasing the utterly excruciating stretching sensation from which he was suffering.

"Apparently, you know my name, however we do not know yours," Dumbledore said, barely maintaining his attention.

"Uhhh…" His mind was in complete chaos. Should he tell them? _What the hell are they going to do? Kill me? _"Harry…Potter."

Another gasp swept through the room.

"Potter? As in, a descendent of James Potter?" McGonagall asked, shock written all over her face.

He shifted under the uncomfortable stares, literally on the verge of losing consciousness. "His son, actually."

That knocked them dead. _Not literally of course, _Harry added as a regretful afterthought. _Wait a second, if it's 1975 then my parents would be…in their seventh year! _That realization was just another shock to his rapidly frying brain. _Of course it would be, because the universe just loves to watch me squirm._

"You have got to be kidding me," he groaned as he fell back into his pillows, finally submitting to the overwhelming darkness.

* * *

><p>The doors to the Great Hall began to open and everyone turned their attention to the headmaster as he made his way through the doorway.<p>

Dumbledore cleared his throat, "Students, may I have your listening ears one moment, please? I have an important announcement to make. You have just caught a glimpse of your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Harry Turner! He managed to get into a bit of a skirmish and will be in the hospital wing for a few days more. I will be substituting for the position until he feels better or Madam Pomfrey sees fit to release him from her clutch. I assume Professor Morgan has given the introductions in my place…Yes? Splendid! Now Heads and Prefects, could you please show our first years to their dormitories? Returning students, I strongly suggest you head to your respective common rooms for the night. Thank you."

With a wave of his wand the decorations for the ceremony disappeared and mysteriously so did any misconceptions of their new professor.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Alrighty, sorry about the late update, guys and gals. Here's the new chapter, remastered!**


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